


Metamorphosis

by BriMac0518



Series: Requests [45]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Body Horror, Dark fic, Gen, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27746779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriMac0518/pseuds/BriMac0518
Summary: “The great Med’an reduced to a whining, mewling abomination. My my, how the mighty have fallen.” Caza chuckled, apparently never tiring of seeing everything that Med’an was being forced to endure as his body was changed beyond measure.
Series: Requests [45]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986547
Kudos: 6





	Metamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

> Request from someone on tumblr.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: Do not repost my work anywhere. I do not give my permission.

Med’an’s world had devolved into pain with a healthy dose of fear. 

The fel magic that kept him immobile, pinned against the rough rock wall at his back left him with no choice but to face his captor. His staff, Atiesh, was lying on the ground just out of his reach. So close yet so very far away.

Fel Lord Caza watched, pleased that he had Med’an at last. The hybrid Guardian had been a thorn in the Legion’s side for far too long and finally, Caza had an opportunity to put an end to it. Med’an was just too much of a nuisance and needed to be dealt with. Caza had the perfect idea of just how to accomplish that goal. Simply killing Med’an wouldn’t be satisfying. 

“This has been a long time coming, Med’an. You’ve been too much of an annoyance,” Caza said from where he stood, towering over Med’an where that magic held him against the wall. His massive ax was in the demon lord’s right hand, the butt of it resting on the ground at his feet.

“Happy to be of service,” Med’an replied sarcastically, keeping the fear tampered down. The last thing he wanted was to show Caza that he was afraid. His body hurt all over from being subdued by demons, then from having to remain in one position for so long thanks to the magic binding him, but Med’an was doing his best to ignore both the pain as well as the fear. Neither would help him in his present situation.

“I see your sarcasm hasn’t abandoned you yet. Nor that defiance that you cling to so tightly. Neither will serve you well here, Guardian. After I’m done with you, you will no longer be a problem for the Legion.” A cruel smirk twisted the fel lord’s lips and Med’an felt his heart sink. He was alone. There was no one to help him but himself.

With a nod to one of the lesser demons, Caza gave them permission to proceed. Med’an watched two of those demons approach him and his eyes widened when he saw what one of them was carrying: a goblet that was filled with a glowing green substance. Fel blood.

“No!” Med’an began to struggle in earnest against the magic that held him, trying to call upon his own even though the magic that bound him subdued it. He tried twisting his head to the side, turning his face away from the two demons, but one took a firm hold of his head and forced his mouth open while the other poured the foul liquid into him.

It burned. Light, it burned so badly. He tried to spit it out, but a hand clamped over his mouth while another roughly massaged his throat to force Med’an to swallow the fel blood. That burning consumed him and a ragged scream was muffled against the demon’s palm, body jerking in his bonds.

He didn’t even realize that the fel magic faded or that he’d fallen to the ground. All he knew was pain. He could feel that fire burning in his veins, could feel the way it twisted his body. Muscles shifted, bones contorted, and Med’an writhed on the ground as that change overwhelmed him. His screams echoed in his surroundings with no one to muffle them.

Vaguely, Med’an registered the sound of laughter, wicked and malevolent. Caza. He watched the transformation taking place with a grim satisfaction, enjoying Med’an’s suffering as the hybrid lost himself in the pain that left every nerve ending screaming with white hot agony.

Med’an didn’t know how much time had passed, how long he was being made to suffer, but he could register the fact that everything was changing. Not just physically, but mentally as well. He’d gone from praying for it all to stop to thinking in simpler terms: Pain. Hurt. STOP.

His screams and cries became a bit garbled due to the large tusks that were forming in his lower jaw. He could register that his arms and hands looked completely different where now thick fingers clenched and gripped at the rough stone beneath him, the larger muscles in his forearms clenching, trembling with the new strength that they possessed. 

“The great Med’an reduced to a whining, mewling abomination. My my, how the mighty have fallen.” Caza chuckled, apparently never tiring of seeing everything that Med’an was being forced to endure as his body was changed beyond measure.

Gradually, the pain began to lessen, though was not gone entirely. Med’an looked around him weakly, groaning as everything hurt. He’d just endured the worst pain of his life and through his withering intelligence, he registered that Atiesh was within his reach. Staff help. That much he knew. 

Summoning up what little strength he had left, Med’an reached for the staff and abruptly, the laughter and mirth vanished as Caza realized what Med’an was doing.

“No! Stop him! Get the staff!” His command was sharp and Med’an could hear the demons hastening to obey, but it was too late. His fingers curled around Atiesh and he willed himself away from that terrible place. The last thing he heard was Caza’s enraged roar before Med’an vanished.

Where he ended up, he did not know. He could see trees overhead and tell that it was daytime given the glimpse of bright blue sky that he could see between the leaves, the dappled sunlight shining down upon his weary form. Exhaustion and lingering pain were dragging him down quickly, but his fingers maintained a desperate grip on Atiesh even as the fel blood finished warping his mind, making him no more than a grunt or peon in terms of intelligence. 

Med’an’s final sight before the blissful darkness of unconsciousness claimed him was a pair of softly glowing cerulean eyes gazing down upon his broken body. He had no idea who they belonged to, but he didn’t care either. His eyes closed and the world around him faded away.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to get updates on my writing? Come say hi on my social media. I’d love to hear from you! :)
> 
> [tumblr](http://brimac0518.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Instagram](http://instagram.com/brimac0518/)


End file.
